


I Do Like To Be Beside the Seaside

by jessiecrimefighter



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: British seaside, F/M, Just Fitzsimmons going on holiday, There's not really much of a plot, pure fluff, vacation fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-01 01:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6496090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessiecrimefighter/pseuds/jessiecrimefighter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz decides to take Jemma to an English seaside resort on their first vacation as a couple. Based on this prompt: http://blake-wyatt.tumblr.com/post/142228637344/q-will-jemma-get-vacation-time-elizabeth-i-hope</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Popsicle86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popsicle86/gifts).



> Although Elizabeth specifically mentioned Scunthorpe and Skegness, I've never actually been to either place, so I was having difficulty writing it. So instead I chose the seaside location in England that I've been to most recently, which is Penzance. :-)

“I can’t believe you guys actually managed to swing some vacation time,” Daisy said, as she leaned against the doorway of Fitz’s room. “I am so jealous.”

“Emotional blackmail,” Fitz replied as he stuffed clothes into his bag. “I told Coulson Jemma needed some time off after everything she’s been through this year, and that I needed to be with her to support her…blah, blah, blah…”

“Nice!” Daisy nodded in approval. “So where are you guys headed? Hawaii? Mexico? Some other far flung exotic location?”

“Well, Penzance is far flung,” Fitz replied with a shrug. “And I suppose to an American it might seem exotic…”

“Penzance?” Daisy asked, her brow furrowed. “As in ‘The Pirates of…’? I’ve never actually seen that show, where is it? In the Caribbean?”

“Nope,” said Fitz happily. “It’s in Cornwall. In England.”

“England?” Daisy sounded nonplussed. “That’s where you’re going for your first vacation together as a couple? What, are you guys visiting Jemma’s family or…?”

“Well, we will be travelling up to Sheffield and staying for a few nights on our way back, before going on to Glasgow for a few days to see my mum,” Fitz replied, “but no. I’ve decided to take Jemma to Penzance because it’s the one place that we both holidayed in when we were kids. Me and my mum stayed with an old friend of hers that had moved down there one year, and Jemma’s parents took a cottage near there another summer. We both have really happy memories of our time there.” He zipped up his bag and turned to face Daisy. “So that’s why I’m thinking it’ll be nice to go back there together.”

“Okay,” Daisy said with a doubtful expression. “I mean, I’m sure it’s lovely, but isn’t it the wrong time of year to be going to England on vacation? It’s not that sunny there in April, is it?”

“No, not usually,” Fitz answered with a smile. “I mean the south coast is a bit warmer than the rest of the country, but hopefully it’ll still be pretty grey and damp at the moment. God knows, it might even be windy,” he sighed wistfully.

“Um…why the hell would you want bad weather on your vacation?” Daisy asked, her face a mask of incredulity. “Wouldn’t you rather go somewhere hot where you can lie on a beach all day?”

“Ugh, god no,” Fitz replied in disgust. “To be uncomfortable and hot and sweaty all day, and have to keep applying greasy sun cream, and yet still somehow get burnt to a crisp anyway? Not to mention all those weird insects?! No thank you! It’s not a proper British seaside holiday if you don’t have at least one day of rain, Daisy. And it’s off season in Penzance, so there won’t be too many tourists around the place either. A lot of places might even be closed! I cannot wait!” he declared gleefully.

He lifted his bag off the bed and moved towards the door, but Daisy stepped into his path, blocking his exit.

“Okay, wait!” she said. “I’m sorry, Fitz, I cannot let you do this. I care about both you and Jemma too much to let you screw this one up. This is your first romantic getaway, Fitz! You cannot take Jemma to some wet place in England. You have to sweep her off her feet! Take her somewhere with palm trees and white beaches and turquoise water and amazing sunsets…”

“Daisy,” Fitz sighed. “I appreciate you trying to help, I really do, but you remember that I bought her roses for our first official date and you took them off me and threw them in the bin and gave me lilies to give her instead because roses were - and I quote - ‘so passé’?”

Daisy shifted uncomfortably. “Well, how was I to know that Jemma was allergic to lilies?”

“You see, I did,” Fitz replied, pointing to his chest. “I knew that. And I also knew that passé or not, roses happen to be Jemma’s favourite flower. So I had to go back out and buy her _more_ roses – which she loved by the way. And no sneezing or facial swelling in sight.”

“Yes, okay, so I got one thing wrong…” Daisy began.

“You remember also that you told me that you knew a nice, quiet bar that I should take her to, and when we got there, it was a noisy club?”

“Fitz, I told you, girls love dancing…”

“Jemma doesn’t! She has absolutely no sense of rhythm whatsoever, and she hates doing anything she doesn’t excel at!” he cried.  “Plus, she was concerned about what the decibel level in that club was doing to our ears.”

“Okay, so your point is…?”

“Like I say, I do appreciate your trying to help. I know I’m not very experienced with this relationship and romance stuff, but one thing I do know is Jemma. She’s not like you, she doesn’t like the same things as you do. She’s a bit of an odd duck, but then so am I! So please trust me, I know what I’m doing. I'm not going to screw this up, she will love this. Besides,” he added, “we fly all over the world to exotic destinations all the time. Now that we have some time off…I know that Jemma will just want to go home.” He shrugged.

Daisy regarded him for a moment before she stepped back to let him out the door with a wave of her hand. “Okay,” she conceded with a nod. “Okay, you got this, Daniel-san. The student has become the master. Your time has come. You must continue on your own…”

“Okay, you got that the whole point of my speech was that you’ve been of absolutely no help whatsoever, right?” Fitz asked, shaking his head as he arched an eyebrow at her.

“I did, yes,” Daisy replied sheepishly.

“Okay,” Fitz said. “Now get out of my room and I’ll bring you back a stalk of rock.”

“A what now?” Daisy asked as she exited into the corridor.

“It’s candy,” Fitz replied, pulling the door of his room shut and locking it. “Hard pink candy in a cylindrical shape. You only get it in seaside places in Britain, it has the name of the place you buy it in at each end, except on one end it’s back to front. That’s because as you bite it, the name stays intact the whole way through!”

“Um, okay,” Daisy said doubtfully.

“You’ll love it. In the meantime, go tell Lincoln that you want him to take you to somewhere hot where there’s palm trees and dancing or whatever, because obviously _you_ haven’t had a break in a long time either,” Fitz continued as he walked past her down the corridor.

“Aw, man,” Daisy sighed as she slumped against the wall. “There’s no way Coulson’s going to give me and Lincoln vacation time as well.”

“I told you,” Fitz called over his shoulder. “Emotional blackmail!”

 

“Oh, Fitz, this is such a wonderful idea!” Jemma’s eyes were sparkling as she squeezed her hands between her knees in excitement. “I had no idea what you were planning when you said we’d be flying into Heathrow and then travelling on from there. I was a little apprehensive, to be honest. You know I don’t normally like surprises. But this is absolutely perfect.” He couldn’t help smiling to himself as he watched her gazing dreamily out the window of the train at the countryside rattling by.

“I _knew_ you’d like it,” he replied, with not a little triumph in his voice.

Jemma rested her head back against the seat and sighed happily. “I love it,” she said. “I used to love going to the seaside when I was a kid, and this is just bringing back so many memories. The summer we stayed in Penzance was one of my favourite holidays ever. Apart from Perthshire, of course.” She smiled warmly at him, and he felt his breath catch in his chest. “No,” she continued, with a shake of her head, putting off any further discussion about their future life together for the moment, “just going down the beach every day, picking up shells and studying them, exploring rock pools and then getting ice-cream on the way home as well, of course!” She laughed. “And going to the outdoor pool, and walking along the promenade with my mum and dad…” She took a deep breath and released all that nostalgia welling up inside her with a contented sigh. “It was one of the few times I remember just being a kid, you know? When my life wasn’t about studying and passing exams.”

“Yeah,” Fitz said, nodding his head in agreement. “I know exactly what you mean. What I loved about the summer me and my mum came to Penzance, was that it was the first holiday we didn’t just go to Ayr with all my aunts and cousins. We always stayed in the holiday camp there, it used to be Butlins. I hated it. All my cousins hated me. They took the piss out of me all the time. I remember they wouldn’t speak to me after we watched a magic show one evening and I was able to figure out how the guy did every single one of his tricks. He barred me from coming back to his show!”

Jemma laughed heartily at that, and Fitz grinned.

“And when one of the rides in the amusement park broke down, I knew how to fix it, but the management wouldn’t let me,” he continued with a sigh. “I kicked up a bit of fuss about it so I ended up getting barred from there too.”

“Oh god,” Jemma replied, wiping her eyes. “Believe it or not, I did almost the same thing at Butlins in Skegness! I went with all _my_ cousins one year, and I took samples from the swimming pool to test them for harmful bacteria.”

“Oh, Jemma!” Fitz groaned. “Please don’t tell me you took your chemistry set on holiday with you!”

“Of course I did,” she scoffed. “What else was I going to do for two weeks?! The whole thing did not go down well with my cousins though. The management wouldn’t take my results seriously, so it sorta, kinda, ended up getting a write-up in the local paper and I nearly got the place shut down.”

Fitz threw his head back and laughed loudly at that. “God, we were both such weird kids!” he said. “No wonder our lives are so strange now, we were never really normal, were we?”

Jemma shrugged. “I don’t know, I always felt normal! It was everyone else who seemed weird to me!” Fitz laughed again. “Apart from you,” she said, piercing his chest with that smile again, the one that seemed to be reserved just for him. “You I understood, right from the very start. Thank goodness we found each other, eh, Fitzy?”

“Yeah,” he said, as he returned the warmth he found in her eyes with a smile of his own. “Thank goodness.” He quirked his eyebrow as he added, “Or god knows, we’d be really weird adults now as well. Like the kind of people whose dream holiday would be a train journey to Penzance, instead of Hawaii or the Caribbean, for instance.”

Jemma scrunched up her nose. “Ugh, you know I burn easily,” she said. “And I get bored lying on a beach all day, but it gets too hot to do anything else in those places except swim. I mean, sure, the scenery’s nice, but so is the Peak District, you know?”

“I do,” he said with a smile. “The Peak District looks like Scotland, by the way.”

“Ugh, Fitz,” Jemma replied in adorable annoyance. “Why is it that every time you admit that there’s anywhere in England that has nice scenery, you always have to compare it to Scotland?”

He shrugged in the way he knew really exasperated her. “I’m sorry, but the nicest landscapes in England all look like the medium nicest landscapes in Scotland. You know this, you’ve been to Perthshire. Now, the Highlands, for instance…”

“Yes, okay.” Jemma rolled her eyes. “On our next vacation, you can finally take me to your beloved Highlands, so I can see for myself. You’ve only been going on about them for the last 12 years.”

“Ha!” Fitz clicked his fingers and pointed at her. “You wouldn’t say that unless you actually _wanted_ to go to the Highlands! Admit it, you’re dying to go!”

“Why does everything have to be a competition with you?” she complained.

“With me?! I’m not the competitive one here!” Fitz declared in mock outrage. “Who’s the person who took a semester of advanced fluid mechanics, even though it had nothing to do with your own field whatsoever, just because I was taking one more class than you were and you needed to beat my GPA?”

“I told you,” Jemma sniffed haughtily. “It has applications for biomedical science that I was interested in.”

Fitz grinned at her. “Yeah, okay,” he said, raising a sceptical eyebrow. “You keep telling yourself that.” He leaned across the table towards her. “Let’s call a truce. What about a peace offering? How does sandwiches sound?”

“Oooh, excellent,” Jemma replied, clapping her hands excitedly. “Where’s the lady with the refreshment trolley got to?”

“I see her coming down now,” Fitz said, with a nod of his head towards the aisle behind Jemma. “I’m going for ham and mustard, if they have it. And a packet of cheese and onion crisps. Do you want chicken salad as usual?” he asked as he reached into his pocket for change.

“Not this time. Either egg mayo or cheese and pickle please. Whichever they have. Cheese and pickle if they have both. And a cup of tea of course.”

 “Really?” Fitz asked. “Never known you to eat egg mayo or cheese and pickle.”

“Nostalgia,” Jemma replied with a shrug. “My granny used to always make cheese and pickle or egg sandwiches when she took me on day trips to Scunthorpe.”

“Why would anyone go on a day trip to Scunthorpe?” Fitz asked, an incredulous expression on his face. “It’s a big steel town, isn’t it? Isn’t it all industrial?”

“There’s a beach there,” Jemma said. “Nearest one to Sheffield. She used to drive us there and even if it was raining, we’d sit and eat our sandwiches in the car.”

“Aw, sounds brilliant,” Fitz said wistfully. “I remember me and my mum eating chips in the car in the rain at Largs. I loved it. That’s another seaside place, near Glasgow,” he added.

“Oh, chips!” Jemma exclaimed. “We’ll have to get some chips in Penzance. I haven’t had proper chip shop chips in ages, and they always taste even better at the seaside.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Fitz replied. “That’s on my list.”

Jemma cocked her head to one side in amusement. “You have a list?”

Fitz nodded solemnly. “Of course I do. I know better than to take Jemma Simmons anywhere without a meticulously-planned itinerary. It’s even laminated.”

“It’s not laminated!” Jemma said with a gurgle of laughter. “You idiot!”

“No, it’s not laminated,” Fitz grinned.

“If it was laminated, you wouldn’t be able to fold it up and carry it in your pocket,” Jemma said, chuckling in disbelief at such an idea as she looked out the window.

Fitz gaped at her for a moment, before shaking his head and smiling fondly to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma check into their hotel, and then take a stroll on the beach - in the rain of course!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely Popsicle86 had actually wanted to write this prompt herself, but she is busy at the moment, bringing a little human into the world! So she asked me if I could include two moments in this that she had wanted to write about in hers, and the first of them is in this chapter. I'll tell you what it is at the end! So here it is, and I hope I've done justice to her lovely idea.

The train finally rolled in to Penzance Station. They were both tired and stiff from the journey, and it was a relief to get out into the fresh air and stretch their legs. The sky was overcast, with just a few patches of blue peeking timidly out from behind the stern, domineering grey clouds. Perfect seaside weather, Fitz thought happily. He had a brown stain on his light blue shirt from where a large blob of Branston pickle had fallen when Jemma insisted he taste her sandwich, but he didn’t care. The negative ions in the sea air were already going to his head. And she had been right – he _had_ forgotten how good cheddar cheese and Branston pickle tasted.

“The hotel’s just a short walk from here, along the seafront,” Fitz said, linking his fingers through Jemma’s as they exited the station, the wheels of their suitcases making a racket on the pavement behind them. “We’ll go and get checked in first.”

“Alright. So what’s first on the list then?” Jemma asked teasingly, swinging his hand as they walked.

“A walk along the promenade of course,” he replied without hesitation. “And a 99.”

“Ooh!” Jemma gave an excited little bounce and for a split second Fitz could see exactly how she must have looked as a child. “Yay! It’s been absolute _years_ since I had a 99! Oooh, I’m going to get strawberry sauce on mine.”

“Oh god no,” Fitz exclaimed with a frown. “That’s heresy! I’m a 99 purist myself. Just plain ice cream and a Flake is all you need, no other adornments.”

“You’re no fun!” Jemma said, shaking her head. She was practically skipping now. “I like to crumble some of the Flake over the ice-cream as well and bury the rest inside, and then take a bite of chocolate each time I lick away enough ice-cream to reveal a bit of Flake.”

“That is utter madness!” Fitz declared. “There is something wrong with you! Everyone knows that you take the Flake out and eat it first. You can dip it in the ice cream as you eat it, but you eat it first.”

“Well, what is the point of that?” Jemma asked. “You may as well just get an ordinary soft-serve ice-cream cone and buy a Flake bar yourself and eat them one after the other, if you’re going to do that. You have to eat them together, Fitz!”

“First of all, listen to you – ‘soft serve’! You’ve been in the States too long!” he scoffed. “It’s Mr Whippy ice cream here!”

“Oh god, Mr Whippy!” Jemma cried. “How could I forget that?!”

“Secondly, why would anyone buy a plain ice-cream cone and a separate Flake when you can just get a 99?!” Fitz continued. “That’s insanity, Jemma. I’ve finally decided – you’re actually weirder than I am. It’s official now, the results are in.”

Jemma gave a little giggle. “Can we go to the beach after the promenade? Does that comply with your list?”

“It depends which beach you’re talking about,” he replied. “If it’s a sandy beach you want, then no, that’s on the itinerary for tomorrow. But it just so happens that there will be a low tide this afternoon, and so we’ll be able to walk on the Promenade or Battery Rocks beaches, which are mostly rock and shingle beaches - because I don’t personally believe you’re getting the full British seaside experience if the beach is soft and comfortable to walk on.”

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma sighed dreamily as she placed her hand on her chest, “you actually checked the tides before we came?”

“Of course! I told you it was a meticulously-planned itinerary.”

“I love you,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. Fitz grinned and turned his head to kiss her on the lips.

“You’re alright too, I suppose,” he said cheekily.

With an indignant huff, she gave him a little shove, and he laughed, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her tightly into his side. “I love you too,” he murmured, kissing her temple. Drawn into the moment, he suddenly noticed the sound of seagulls squawking overhead, the whooshing of the tide, and the tang of salt on the air - all of which told him they were approaching the seafront. He looked up to see the sea waiting for them at the end of the street. “Ah!” he exclaimed. “Almost here.” As they rounded the corner of the street, onto the Promenade, he dropped his arm from her shoulders and pointed in front of him. “That’s our hotel there, just up in front of us.”

“Oh, it’s one of those lovely old-fashioned ones,” Jemma cooed.

“Mmmm, been in business since Victorian times,” Fitz replied. “Four-poster beds and everything.”

“Oh, Fitz, this is just perfect,” she said squeezing his arm in delight.

“I’m just excited about the full English breakfast included in the price,” he said. “Although I still don’t know how you can call any breakfast ‘full’ without tattie scones.” He sighed.

“Don’t be such a grump,” Jemma chirped at him. “You can have all the tattie scones and square sausage you can eat when we go to Glasgow next week. I’ll tell you what, I’ll buy you a Cornish pasty later to make up for it.”

“Oh, Cornish pasty is on the list,” Fitz said adamantly. “But that’s for tomorrow. You’re getting ahead of yourself, missy.”

“Oh, right,” Jemma said, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Can’t mess with the itinerary now, can we?”

“I sense mockery in your tone,” Fitz said, narrowing his eyes.

Jemma shook her head innocently. “No mockery here, I promise. I love the itinerary. The itinerary is law, and I will obey.” She saluted him, clicking her heels together.

Fitz nodded solemnly. “Well, then, let’s get checked in,” he replied, nudging her arm, as they entered the hotel. “We’re already behind schedule with all your chatter and nonsense about eating 99s entirely the wrong way.”

 

The receptionist was a lovely, chatty lady with a strong Cornish accent who gave them a list of places they should visit and how to get there. She also advised them not to eat their ice creams on the promenade, as the seagulls were wont to swoop down and snatch food out of people’s hands. Jemma was clearly alarmed by her description of the size of some of these ravenous beasts, and begged Fitz to make a last minute adjustment to his schedule on the way up the carpeted stairs. Fitz reminded her that they had both watched enough nature documentaries to know that such aggressive behaviour was probably due to parental instinct and it was early in the season yet for that. He was teasing her about her trepidation over facing down a hungry seagull, when compared to going undercover on her own at Hydra or surviving six months on a barren alien planet, as they arrived at their room.  Jemma’s fear of treat-stealing birds was forgotten as they took in the sight before them. Although spacious, the room was an homage to busy floral patterns and various shades of pink, saved only from being headache-inducing by the copious amount of light streaming in through the large bay windows that looked out over the sea. Jemma threw herself down on the four-poster bed with a contented sigh, before immediately pushing herself up again and racing into the bathroom to inspect it. Fitz grinned to himself as he unpacked his clothes, listening to her cooing about the carved, rose-scented soaps in the bathroom. He didn’t think he could remember the last time she had been so excited about anything.

He felt like he hadn’t seen this Jemma in so long, all childlike wonder and enthusiasm for the world around her. This was the Jemma who had first exploded like a supernova into his lonely little life all those years ago at the academy, ripping it apart and filling it with light and colour and warmth, infusing it with a magic that had irrevocably transformed his entire existence and taken him almost a decade to fully understand. Looking back now, he could clearly see that they were always headed towards this point, but it still seemed nothing short of miraculous to him that they were finally here. Together. After everything that had happened, after everything they had survived. Their first holiday as a couple, reliving the simplest and happiest experiences of their respective childhoods. It was too much to take in, and Fitz was feeling overwhelmed by the upsurge of emotions catching in his throat. Just at that moment Jemma walked out of the bathroom, declaring herself delighted with the obnoxiously-decorated suite. She rushed to him, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him hard. Pulling her into himself, Fitz cupped her face reverently with one hand as he deepened the kiss, and a moment of pure and unspoken emotion passed from his mouth to hers, before he finally released her. Jemma looked up at him in wonder, a question in her eyes, but he shook his head at her and smiled. “Are you going to get unpacked or not?” he said, chiding her softly. “We’ve a schedule to keep to.”

 

They found a shop that sold ice-cream and strolled up the promenade slurping at their 99s under an increasingly moody sky which was starting to spit drops of intermittent rain at them. The tide was indeed out by the time they walked down the steps to the narrow stretch of rock and shingle that ran alongside the length of the promenade. Their feet crunched the stones below them, as they strolled along the beach, taking in the view of St Michael’s Mount across the bay. Childhood trips to the castle atop the hilly island were discussed - Jemma had travelled there by ferry, whereas Fitz had made the journey on foot along the slipway from the nearby town of Marazion at low tide. As they chatted, utterly lost in each other’s company and the exhilaration of childhood adventures recalled, it took them a moment to realise that it was now raining quite steadily and their light jackets were not proving to be up to the challenge of British weather.

“Come on,” Fitz said, reaching for her hand. “Let’s run and get inside somewhere.”

“Not yet,” Jemma said cheerfully as she stopped. He turned to look at her in confusion as she balanced herself against his shoulder and began pulling her sneakers off. “I haven’t been in for a paddle yet.”

“Are you absolutely mad?” Fitz demanded. “It’s pouring, Jemma! And it’s April! The water will be freezing! Also, it’s a shingle beach - not really suitable for bare feet,” he added, shaking his head at her to emphasise his point.

“We’re at the seaside, Fitz,” she exclaimed as she pulled off her other shoe. “It’s mandatory to go in for a paddle!” She handed the bag that she’d had strung across one shoulder to him and bent down to pull off her socks as well, tucking them into her shoes before quickly rolling up her jeans.  Then, as Fitz watched in amazement, she turned and took off, moving in a comically careful little tiptoe run and emitting shouts of ‘ow’ as she encountered particularly gravelly parts of the terrain on her way to the water’s edge.

“AAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH! IT’S FREEEEEEEEEEZZZZING!” she shrieked as she stepped into the sea, hopping about in a futile attempt to keep her bare feet away from the icy water. Fitz covered his face with his hands as he bent double in laughter.

“You are an absolute madwoman!” he yelled through his paroxysms of hilarity, resting his hands on his knees as he struggled to breathe.

“OMIGAAAWWWWWDDDDD!” She was panting in a high-pitched fashion now, and Fitz doubled over again.

“You’re making a spectacle of yourself, Jemma!  People on the Promenade are staring at you!” he called, as he straightened up. “You’re scaring the locals!”

“It’s actually not that bad once you get used to it,” she shouted back breathlessly as she began to wade about in an exploratory fashion.

“Nope! That’s just the hypothermia setting in,” Fitz yelled.

“I’m serious! Come on in, Fitzy, it’s actually lovely once your feet have numbed. It’s a little hard to move them, to be fair…”

They both broke down laughing at the same time. Throwing her head back, Jemma stretched out her arms from her side, with her palms turned upwards to catch the rain. Her hair was plastered to her face now, her cheeks a fetchingly rosy colour and as Fitz watched her, he felt as though time slowed down for a moment. He knew that the memory of her paddling in the English Channel in the rain while the good people of Cornwall looked on askance would be burned into his brain forever, in glorious technicolour. Even so, he still felt the need to take out his phone in order to capture the moment. For one thing, he didn’t think anyone else on the team would believe that Jemma could be this euphoric and carefree without photographic evidence. In fact he needed to send it to Daisy right away.

The raindrops snaking down the front of his screen brought his attention back to more practical matters, like the fact that his jacket was now sticking to his shirt. Also, they had eaten their sandwiches several hours ago now, and he was getting hungry again. A glance at his watch told him it was tea-time, and so he strolled down towards the water’s edge. “Come on, you,” he called to Jemma. “You’ve had your paddle now. You’re going to catch your death if you stay in there much longer.”

She tiptoed cautiously back up towards him, trying not to slip on the wet stones beneath her feet. As she reached him, he grabbed her by the waist, bending his knees to lift her off the ground. Her shrieks of delight probably attracted more attention from the promenade, but he cared not a whit as he carried his precious cargo back up the shore to where her shoes were sitting. “Might as well put your socks straight on your wet feet. We’re both soaked anyway,” he said as he put her down on the ground. “Oh my god, Jemma, your feet are blue!” he cried. He lifted his head to look at her face and realised that her lips were purple and her teeth were chattering. “You idiot!” he said, half in concern and half in amusement. “I told you you’d be freezing. Come on, let’s get you inside somewhere, get a cup of tea and dry off.”

“I thought we were sticking to a schedule,” she said despite her vibrating jaw, nudging him playfully as she did so.

“We are,” he replied. “Fish and chips next, so we’re going to a café near here, on the Promenade.”

“Oh, fish and chips!” Jemma said excitedly. “I can’t wait, all this sea air is making me so hungry!”

“It must be, I’ve never seen you eat so unhealthily as you have been today,” Fitz said with a chuckle.

“As a biochemist, I can confirm that your body works differently at the seaside,” Jemma sniffed in a mock-haughty manner.

“Is that so?” Fitz suppressed a smile as he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Hmmm. It’s a very exciting new field of study that not many people know about yet, but basically you can eat whatever you like and it’s not as bad for you as if you ate it anywhere else,” Jemma went on, the corners of her mouth twitching as she spoke.

“Do you know, it’s funny, but I feel like I always instinctively knew that,” Fitz said, nodding seriously.

Jemma couldn’t contain the laughter anymore. “Yes, well,” she giggled, “our bodies are very intuitive that way.”

“Indeed. Mine is telling me right now that if we don’t get in somewhere warm very soon and get something to eat, it is going to be _very_ cross with me.”

“Okay then, let’s go,” Jemma said, as she bent down to put her socks and sneakers back on. “We obviously need to placate that body of yours. I can’t have it getting annoyed at me now, can I? Not when I’m so fond of _it_!” She stood back up and winked at him, as she reached out to tickle his stomach. He leapt away from her, grabbing her hand and holding it away from himself.

“Ah ah!” he warned her playfully. “Control yourself, woman! We’re on a public beach, for god’s sake! In the pouring rain and everything! Absolutely shameful behaviour!” He shook his head as if appalled at her lack of decorum. She cackled mischievously as she tried to reach for his belly with her other arm. He stepped back out of her reach and pulled the arm he had a hold of across her body, spinning her to face away from him, and wrapping his arms around her from behind. Pinning her tightly against himself, he planted a kiss on top of her head. Jemma giggled in delight and then pressed her lips together in suppressed amusement as her eyes lit on something ahead of them. Fitz looked up to see two older ladies walking along the beach towards them, smiling fondly at them from under their umbrellas and then turning to each other with expressions that clearly said “ _aren’t they adorable!_ ” Half pleased and half embarrassed, he released Jemma, demurely taking her hand as he nodded a greeting at the two women. As the ladies walked past them, he and Jemma turned to each other, bursting out laughing again, before running toward the steps that led back up to the Promenade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment when Jemma takes off her shoes and socks and runs into the water in the rain for a paddle was the first idea suggested to me by Popsicle86. I hope that it was what you had in mind, Pop! I have to say, I'm very grateful to you for gifting it to me, as I personally think it works beautifully in this chapter :-)))) Wishing you all the best with welcoming your little one <3 <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz indulges in a childhood obsession and Jemma finds herself very taken with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to update. The cosmos has definitely been against me this past few weeks, and as you'll see when you read the chapter, this one took quite a bit of research! Thanks once again to @Popsicle86 - you will find the second moment you suggested to me in this chapter, as well as two things you mentioned in your comment on the first chapter! I hope I've done it right!

Thanks to Fitz’s meticulous research, they were soon ensconced in the window seat of a cosy café, drying off in the heat of the fryers, as they tucked into what felt like the most delicious meal Jemma had ever tasted in her life. She savoured every mouthful of the beer-battered cod and thick, fluffy chips drenched in vinegar and salt, complete with a generous helping of mushy peas on the side. A big, steaming mug of strong tea was warming her from the inside out, and she felt inordinately content. Munching happily, she gazed out the window at the rain pummelling the street outside. It was difficult not to get entranced by the intricate rivulets being formed by dazed drops of water drunkenly weaving their unpredictable paths down the glass in front of her and she wondered when the last time had been that she watched rain falling against a window. There were so few windows on the base, and it rained so rarely there that she had forgotten this had been a particular pleasure of hers as a child. She experienced a sudden surge of affection for this meteorological phenomenon which had been such a constant companion of her northern English upbringing and realised exactly why Fitz had been so hopeful for a downpour on their holiday – rain, quite simply, was home.

Her nostalgic musings were interrupted by Fitz pushing his empty plate away in satisfaction as he gave a loud burp. He uttered a startled-sounding “Excuse me!” with a wide-eyed and apologetic look around at his amused fellow diners. Jemma snorted, knowing that his apparent mortification was an elaborate act. Fitz enjoyed a good burp, but for the sake of propriety he would always fake shock at his own emissions, as if he had been caught entirely by surprise. He winked at her as he leant forward to rest his arms on the table and Jemma giggled as she sipped her tea.

“So what’s next on the agenda for today then?” she asked, putting the mug down. “Or are we done for this evening?” she added, as she glanced at her watch. It was already after six.

“On the contrary,” Fitz replied, with a glint in his eye. “A rainy evening is just the perfect time to take in one of the most important elements of the quintessential British seaside holiday.” Jemma gave him a questioning look and he paused dramatically as he took a long drink of tea. Then placing his mug carefully on the table again, he finally spoke. “Next, my dear Dr Simmons, we shall revel in the delights of the amusement arcade!”

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma groaned. “Please tell we’re not going to try and outsmart the machines!”

“Jemma, those machines are all rigged!” he exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table. “They are deliberately designed to get people to put their money in, but to only give payouts periodically. They’re a scam, but with clever application of science…”

Jemma rolled her head back in exasperation. “Your mother told me about this!” she said. “She said you would spend hours in arcades as a child trying to figure out how to make the machines pay out. It used to drive her berserk.”

“And I succeeded many times!” Fitz replied. “And since this time I will have the most brilliant scientific mind of our generation with me…”

In spite of herself, Jemma felt something bloom inside her chest, its colour coming out on her cheeks, as her lips quirked upwards in a smile. “The most brilliant scientific mind of our generation? Really?”

Fitz shrugged. “Well, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, and that includes me. And _I_ was the smartest person I’d ever met before I met you… Also, for a biochemist, you have a better grounding in physics than most physicists I’ve met, so between us we could bleed that arcade dry.”

“So you think flattery will entice me into helping you cheat an amusement arcade?” she said, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Please tell me this entire holiday is not about you getting one up on the arcade games industry?”

“Of course not!” Fitz spluttered in alarm. “Absolutely not! I wanted to…”

“Fitz, I was kidding,” she interrupted him with a fond laugh. “I know it’s not, I know this holiday is about you being an incredibly sweet boyfriend.”

“We don’t have to go to the arcade,” Fitz continued with an emphatic shake of his head. “I just thought it might be a bit of fun…”

“Fitz,” she said, reaching across the table to place her hand on his as she cut him off. “I do want to go the arcade. It will be fun….as long as that famous stubborn streak of yours doesn’t kick in and we end up spending all night there, while you get increasingly frustrated and determined and I get bored silly.”

“When does that ever happen?” Fitz said indignantly.

“Oh, just every time you get absorbed in a new project or invention that’s not working exactly as you had wanted it to,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “Or every time you play video games with Mack and he is _absolutely_ kicking your arse…”

“Oh, that was one time and it was my first time playing that game, and Mack had played it loads…” He faltered as Jemma raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, yes, I might sometimes get a little… _obstinate_ … when I’m trying to win at something. But I haven’t forgotten that the whole point of this holiday is for us to spend time together on our own. So I’ve allotted one hour only in the arcade and that’s it. And let’s face it, Jemma,” he said, with just a hint of smugness as he looked her directly in the eye, “you like winning just as much as I do – if not more - so that’s how I know you’re going to enjoy this.” She felt her mouth twitch as she struggled to maintain a sceptical look, despite the fact that she knew he was right.  “Also, I’ll buy you candy floss,” he added. “And a drink in the pub afterwards.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Jemma exclaimed as she pushed up from the table. “Let’s go show that arcade a thing or two!”

 

Despite her initial reservations, Jemma had to admit it was something of a thrill to watch Fitz besting the arcade machines. His mother had been right, he took it as seriously as he did coming up with some new piece of tech designed to save lives in the field. Despite years of watching his laser focus at work, it was still incredible to her how he never broke his concentration, even when she fed him wisps of pink candy floss from the massive cloud on the stick she was holding. He would catch them in his mouth without ever taking his eyes or fingers off whatever game he was playing, not until torrents of coins would tumble into the chute below, which he collected in the large paper cup he was carrying with him. More than once she let out an involuntary squeal as she jumped with excitement before she could help it. It was also kind of adorable the way he insisted on getting a kiss for luck before he played each machine, despite the fact that no luck was required whatsoever since his winnings were all acquired by the application of probability theory, or other branches of mathematics. And he also insisted on being congratulated with a kiss and a hug each time he won, at one stage even dipping her before he kissed her, so they were creating something of a scene in the near-empty arcade. She honestly didn’t care though, because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. Just to be young and carefree and happy and in love was a luxury that she’d never had an opportunity to indulge in before and it was magical and heady.

“Oh,” Fitz breathed suddenly, looking beyond her shoulder as he released her after a particularly profitable win on a poker machine. “Hello, old _nemesis_ ,” he continued in a low, dramatic voice. “You thought you had defeated me once and for all but I’m back with a PhD and 12 years of experience in the most advanced engineering in the world. You will not defeat me this time.”

Puzzled, Jemma turned around to see what the hell he was talking to. There was only one machine in their line of sight, and it confused her wildly. “ _The 2p machine_? _That’s_ your _nemesis_?” The hexagonal machine was divided up into six glass-covered sections, each containing two platforms covered in rows of 2 pence coins, the upper one moving back and forth and each time stopping frustratingly short of nudging the coins in the front row over the edge into the chute below.

“Technically, it’s called a penny pusher,” Fitz replied as he moved towards it. “And yes, this machine right here was the bane of my childhood holidays. It should be simple, right? You put 2 pence pieces in as the upper platform moves forward, and as it moves back and presses your coin against the back of the machine, it pushes some coins over the edge onto the lower platform. Now, as the upper platform sweeps forward again, it pushes those coins that have dropped against all the ones that have already gathered there.”

“I know how a coin pusher works, Fitz,” Jemma replied wryly.

“Yes, but the point is, it should push them all over the edge into the coin chute and you should be getting piles of 2p coins each time. But you don’t. Why not?” He had gone into professor mode now, circling the machine as he eagerly explained its workings, and Jemma watched him in amusement.

“Because it’s rigged?” she replied, arching her eyebrow.

“Yes, Jemma, because it’s rigged,” he affirmed. “Look here, at the side. You see those gaps? Each time the platform pushes all the coins forward, more fall down those gaps at the side than fall into the coin chute at the front.”

“Mmm hmmm,” Jemma agreed, nodding. “Because of the circular shape of the coins, they don’t just move straight forward when pushed, but in all forward directions.”

“Exactly,” Fitz replied, oblivious now to the fact that she was humouring him. “Now the typical way to cheat these machines is with a powerful magnet hidden in a glove, but where’s the skill in that? No, I’ve discovered that if I study each section to determine the coins most likely to fall from the upper platform, I can determine what directions they’re likely to push the coins in front of them, and so I work out which section is more likely to push a larger number of coins to the front, instead of to the sides. Watch.”

It didn’t escape her attention that there was something very attractive in the absolute focus he maintained as he walked around the machine, studying each section in turn, his mouth moving silently as he did rapid calculations in his head. She found herself rolling her eyes however, as he circled back around them again, tapping on the glass the way he did when he was processing something in his head. Eventually he walked back to a particular section on the side opposite her, bending his knees to peer in through the glass and study it again, as he counted out a number of 2 pence coins from his cup. Then he straightened up and dropped them one by one into the coin slot. Jemma walked around to his side to watch, and as she approached him, the upper platform was moving forward, pushing against the coins that had dropped there. Greatly to her surprise, a shower of coins tipped over the edge and into the coin chute below.

“Oh my god!” Jemma exclaimed, as Fitz bent down to collect the coins that were clattering loudly, counting quickly as he deftly gathered them into his cup. “It worked!”

“Ha!” he replied. “You didn’t think it would, did you? Oh, ye of little faith! My own girlfriend doubting me!” He rattled the almost overflowing paper cup at her. “£3.18 to be precise.”

“In 2 p’s? Fitz, that’s amazing!” she replied as she surged forward to kiss him. He grinned against her mouth, and she pulled away, resting her wrists on his shoulders and clasping her hands together behind his neck. “You are quite brilliant, you know that?” she said fondly as she gazed up at him.

“I do, actually,” he said cheekily. “But I always did like impressing you.”

She giggled and kissed him again.

“I mean, obviously, it’s not a huge amount,” he went on, now seeming somewhat embarrassed as he stared down at the cup of coins. “But…”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” she replied with a smile. “I understand.” As she released her hands from around his neck, something caught her eye over his shoulder. “Oh, Fitz! Look!” she said, grabbing his arm and pointing behind him. Fitz turned around to follow her line of sight.

“The claw machine?” he asked. “With the plushie Avengers?”

“It’s not just The Avengers,” Jemma replied excitedly. “Look there, towards the back, sitting beside that Hulk one! _It’s a plush Peggy Carter!_ I didn’t know they made those, I’ve never seen one before!”

“In her military uniform and everything,” Fitz said. He sucked a breath through his teeth as he gave a doubtful incline of his head. “I’ll try and get it for you, but claw machines are the worst. They’re pretty much the hardest machines to hack. Especially this kind here, this is one of the newer machines with a computer chip that controls the strength of the claw,” he said as he moved towards it. “They’re usually programmed to keep the claw at a PSI which is too weak to lift any of the toys in the machine, for a number of turns, only increasing the strength once in every cycle, to make people think that it’s possible to win on them. The older machines have a mechanism which keeps the claw strength fixed, and they just rely on packing the toys in so tightly that’s it difficult to pull one out, but even so they’re easier to hack than these.”

“It’s okay,” Jemma reassured him, as she stroked his arm. “You don’t have to get it for me.”

“No, I will,” he said with sudden determination. “It’s just…I might have to actually cheat with this one. These machines are so rigged that it’s not just about skill. Normally it’s a matter of working out the cycle of how many turns there are before the claw strength increases enough to lift a toy. In a busy arcade you can watch other people play for a while to work it out, or if there’s a gap underneath the coin compartment, which there sometimes is on these machines, you can slip a piece of paper under to catch your coin after you put it in, so it registers as a play but you get your coin back on the paper and you play for free.”

“But this machine doesn’t have one of those,” Jemma pointed out.

“No, it doesn’t,” Fitz replied idly as he studied the machine. He bent down and placed his coin cup on the ground beside the machine. “But I have this.” He waved his wrist at her, brandishing his smart watch. Jemma was well aware that he had tinkered with it, adding all sorts of modifications that allowed it to do things that no other smart watch on the planet did. “And I also have _these_ ,” he added as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Jemma frowned in confusion.

“Are those your comms glasses?” she asked in a low voice, glancing around to make sure no-one was listening.

“Nope,” Fitz replied as he slipped them on. He touched the side of them. Jemma bit her lip as she watched him. She always did like him in glasses. “These are my X-Ray glasses!” he continued, as he stared intently at the top of the claw mechanism.

“Oh!” Jemma breathed in realisation. “To see into the machine, to see the computer that controls the claw?”

“Yep,” Fitz replied absently, as his fingers began tapping rapidly on his watch screen.

“Fitz,” Jemma said under her breath, glancing around again, “are you…are you actually using your smart watch to _hack into the claw machine_? To programme it to increase the PSI?” Fitz glanced up at the machine again, then gave a final emphatic tap on his watch, before staring back up at the claw mechanism and giving a triumphant little smile.

“Now, Jemma,” Fitz said, turning to her with a grin and a wry shake of his head. “As if such a thing would be possible!” He gave her a wink and slipped a coin into the machine. Crouching down, he peered through the glass as he pressed one of the controls, moving the claw forward a little bit and then stopping it. He then walked around to the side window, and peered through it, reaching around to press the other control as he moved the claw across until it was hovering right above the plush Peggy Carter.

Jemma held her breath as the claw lowered, opening just as it reached Peggy… and scooping her up firmly in its grip. Jemma gasped, placing her hands on the glass as the claw began to move towards the prize chute, and squealed with excitement as it released Peggy, dropping her into the chute. Jemma grabbed the toy and hugged it to her chest, and then still clutching it, she threw both her arms around Fitz’s neck as she kissed him hard. “Oh, I love her, Fitz! Thank you!”

He shrugged with an affection of modesty, despite the fact that he was clearly delighted with himself. “Are you sure there aren’t any other ones you want as well, now that the claw is operating at full strength?” he said. “She looks a little lonely without Cap, don’t you think?”

“Oh, we’ll have to bring a Cap plushie back for Coulson, definitely,” she laughed. Fitz turned back to the machine, and slipping in another coin, manoeuvred the claw to pick up a Captain America toy and drop it into the chute. Jemma scooped him up, and in her delight couldn’t help making the two plush toys kiss each other, putting on voices as they greeted each other passionately after being so long separated inside the machine.

“Okay, weirdo,” Fitz said, bending down to pick up his coin cup as he suddenly darted anxious glances behind where she stood. “If your dolls can stop snogging for a moment, I think it’s time I use my winnings to buy you a few of those expensive cocktails you like. Because I think that guy over there who’s glaring at me with his arms folded is probably the manager, and I think he’s getting _very_ suspicious.” He stood up and took her hand, and the two of them hurried out the door past the balding, beer-bellied man who was giving them the death stare, bursting into exhilarated laughter as they emerged onto the street outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Popsicle86 is to be thanked for the idea Fitz using his scientific knowledge and skill to win Jemma the toy from the claw machine. I know you said teddy bear, Pop, but I couldn't get the idea of the Peggy Carter toy out of my head, so I hope that's alright. You also mentioned candy floss and 2p machines in your comment, so I thought I'd include them in this chapter as well. Hope everything is okay with the little one!


End file.
